THIRD AGE, 3002 - Southern Bree Fields, Bree-lands / @gemyndig
She had seen the campsite, long before she had smelled the unmistakable scent of cooked fish. These were the Bree-lands and that meant farmers and comforts, not the dangers of the wild lands that bordered it to the east, which meant Sidhen deemed it safe to approach.
Raising her hands, Sidhen stopped at the edge of the camp and looked upon the traveler. A woman she was, with hair like the summer straws of the fields and a willowy appearance. The she-ranger spoke with the sureness of one who’s done this many times.
“I’m no foe, but friend!” She was armed of course, a bow and quiver resting on her back and a dagger at her hip, but she tried to look as friendly as possible. “You are lucky these are friendly lands. A fire elsewhere might call forth more unpleasant things than a lone ranger.”